


Shadows

by FixaIdea



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Era, Gen, Mild Horror, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-12
Updated: 2017-08-12
Packaged: 2018-12-14 11:33:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11782284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FixaIdea/pseuds/FixaIdea
Summary: While returning from a meeting with possible allies, Grantaire loses sight of Enjolras. In a forest. At nightfall.





	Shadows

‘…and will you look at these trees, these twisted, tortured old beasts? Even they look like they want to escape this forsaken place. It wasn’t worth it, Enjolras I told you it wouldn’t, what could these uncivilised forest folks even do for you? What do they have to offer, a couple of axes?’

Grantaire was accutely aware that he was rambling (and being blatantly unfair of Enjolras’ possible new associates), but the forest was getting on his nerves. The two spent the day meeting a group of villagers somewhere in the vincity of Rouen, in a forest. Enjolras would have gladly gone alone but for the risk. Even big cities with their reasonably well organised police force were dangerous enough, especially after nightfall. There was no telling what may await the unsuspecting traveler in the depths of an untamed forest… the wildlife was arguably the last of their possible problems.

Grantaire sighed a shaky sigh. Their meeting was over, but they were still a long way away from their inn. The place was creepy enough on its own, but he remembered, quite clearly, the stories he heard from a fellow the previous night. They were of dark shades in the dusk, people disappearing, unexplained lights and sounds in the dark… all from the forest.

Light was slowly fading. Mist was rolling among the trunks, covering the forest floor in a chilly, silent blanket. 

Grantaire opened his mouth to continue his string of complaints… only to find Enjolras gone.

His blood ran cold in his veins.

‘Enjolras?’ he called out. No answer.

Grantaire looked around. No movement, no sound, nothing but the rapidly thickening, milky fog.

‘Enjolras!’ he cried out, unable to control the shaking of his voice. He could have sworn he caught movement from the corner of his eye - but when he whipped around he couldn’t see anything.

The silence was wrong. Not simply the usual quiet of a tranquil forest but the complete absence of sound. Grantaire slowly, gingerly picked up a branch. 

Where was the path again…?

There was the movement again! A sudden, strong wave of panic seized his throat, stealing his breath, making his stomach turn. Grantaire raised his branch - and felt a squeeze on his arm.

He whrilled around with a scream - and nearly hit Enjolras.

Enjolras, who was looking at him with a cross, disgruntled expression.

‘Oh…’ gasped Grantaire, his breath escaping in an explosive sigh ‘There you are. I almost lost you!’

‘You need to keep up, Grantaire. We are almost home now, but we must hurry. I do not wish for the company of wolves.’

‘Ah yes… wolves…’ Grantaire murmured, scurrying after Enjolras.

Neither men were aware of the empty eyes fixed at their retreating backs.

 

***

They were almost out, Grantaire could, with some imagination, make out a slightly lighter stripe on the horizon among the ink-dark trees. Night has all but fallen around them, and all Enjolras’ small lantern did was to emphasise the blackness closing in around them and casting eerie, dancing shadows.

…Just a couple hundred metres, that was all they needed to cover and they would be out, they would be safe…

And that was when Grantaire saw it. A hooded figure, darker than the night around it with glowing red eyes, blocking their path.

‘Enjolras’ he tried to call out but his voice was hardly more than a choked whimper ‘Enjolras, in front of you…’

The thing reached out a clawed hand… and Enjolras marched right through it. Grantaire stood stock still, mouth agape, then, survival instinct kicking in hurried after his companion.

They were well out of the forest when he dared speak again.

‘Did you see it? You had to see it too! I know it was there!’  
Enjolras sighed.

‘You don’t believe in anything. Don’t make ghosts your first exception.’

‘But it was right there in front of you! You walked right into it and then it just disappeared, you can’t tell me it wasn’t there…’

Enjolras turned to him with a grave expression, the light of his lamp deepening the shadows under his eyes.

‘Grantaire, do you know why it is so important that we believe in the Revolution instead of merely wishing for things to change? Belief is what gives these abstract concepts, the future, the Republic, Justice and Equality their substance. The combined faith of the people is what eventually makes these thigs become real.’

‘Look, I would be a hypocrite to begrudge anyone an out-of-the-blue change of topic but…’

Enjolras held up a finger. Grantaire’s mouth clapped shut as if by its own accord.

‘Do not waste belief on ghosts. It just gives them power. Don’t go about believing in ghosts or, worst of all, gods. It only encourages them.’

**Author's Note:**

> ...Okay, guess who fell face first into the tales surrounding the Hoia Baciu... This loser, that's who. What's the Hoia Baciu, you ask? It's a supposedly haunted forest in Cluj, Romania. People disappear, get inexplicable panic attacks, break out in rashes, the trees grow all strange and twisted... There's a clearing where trees just won't grow, mysterious balls of light are seen...  
>  First I kinda wanted to make this about Gévaudan but that's just too far away from Paris.


End file.
